Make It Through
by dreamsweetmydear
Summary: A late night chat between father and son reveals a lasting repercussion of the portal accident on Danny's life and the true root of his problems at school. Luckily, Jack will make sure Danny doesn't have to deal with this alone anymore.


**From the author's desk: **I'm back with my next one-shot in this fandom. Whoo-hoo! This is an idea that's been bouncing around in my head for a few months, and I've finally taken the time to write it, though I am _extremely_ nervous.

As a person with a disability, writing a character with a disability has been a challenge, because I was trying to be as accurate and as logical about it all as possible. That being said, if I've made any mistakes in the medical information of how this learning disability can be diagnosed please, PLEASE tell me, as I really do want to learn more. I am only able to talk about disability from the perspective of being blind, but I've done my best to piece together how being diagnosed with dyslexia and other effects of a brain injury may be challenging for a teenager, especially one like Danny.

This fic is dedicated to **CaptainOzone**, who I love to pieces. I promised her a fic last August in another fandom, and while that is still being written, she also helped beta "Flip Turn" for me. So I promised her a DP one-shot to say thank you. Her only request was to see more Danny/Jack father-son bonding, and I was happy to oblige.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Danny Phantom_. Lyrics at the beginning and end of the story are from "Move Along" by The All-American Rejects.

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><p><strong><em>Make It Through<br>by dreamsweetmydear_**

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><p>xxx<p>

_All the pain held in your_

_Hands are shaking cold_

_Your hands are mine to hold_

_Speak to me_

xxx

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><p>Danny glared down at his notebook, lip curling at the sight of his shaky cursive and the garbled words it formed.<p>

What was happening to him?

He groaned, raking his fingers through his hair and tugging at the strands in frustration.

Schoolwork had never been this difficult. Reading books for class used to be fairly easy, as did writing. He knew he wasn't the best writer, not like Sam and her gift with words, but he could at least draft an essay.

But nothing in his life had been the same since the accident. Dr. Malone, the family doctor who'd checked him over when he'd gone to the hospital that day, had said that he might have trouble with motor function and muscle weakness, but that his brain scans looked clear for now.

Now it's been months since the accident, and Danny felt like he was losing his mind. Letters had become his enemies, just as ghosts had, and between the ghost fights and his battle with homework, Danny was just…done.

His fingers cramped and twitched involuntarily, causing the pencil tip to bite into his palm.

It was the last straw for the night.

Fine. He'd just copy Sam's or Tucker's homework in the morning. Or he'd just take a zero. Again. It's not like that hadn't become the norm for him anyway.

Shaking the ache out of his hand, Danny stood and walked to his window, staring up at the night sky through the glass panes.

He glanced back over his shoulder at his desk, his notebook and pencil awash in the bright light of his desk lamp. Danny turned back to the window, and brought his hands up to his face, squinting at them pensively.

They felt like a constant low-voltage electric current was running just under his skin.

The teen dropped his hands back to his sides, and trained his gaze on the stars outside his window. With a frigid shock through his system he transformed into his alter ego, and slipped invisibly and intangibly through his window.

Flying was better than dwelling on his deficiencies as a human being.

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><p>xxx<p>

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><p>Jack yawned and cracked his back as he made his way up the stairs. The day had been mellow but good, spent in the lab studying some of the latest ectoplasm samples that they'd acquired in a recent ghost hunt.<p>

Plus, Maddie had made fudge brownies for dessert! Mmm, fudge…

A smile on his face, Jack made his way quietly down the hall. He peeked in on Jazz as he passed her cracked door, gaze softening as he saw her curled up in bed with a thick book, lit by the glow of a reading lamp. She was really growing up to be just like her mother.

The smile slipped off his face, however, when he came to Danny's closed door. He couldn't figure out what was happening with his son for the last few months. Everything had been fine until the accident with the portal, and even for awhile after.

Then his grades started slipping, and they were getting calls from Mr. Lancer about Danny's behavior. He was sleeping in class, and getting into fights with the jocks. Some of it, Jack figured, had to do with his small size. Danny hadn't hit his growth spurt yet, and his voice had yet to begin changing, too. Jack knew Maddie was worried the accident had caused some sort of damage for their son's physical development, but Jack had a hunch that Danny was just a late bloomer like he'd been.

But it was more than that. Recently, Mr. Lancer had started calling about Danny not turning in his schoolwork, and the work he was turning in was perfect and completely identical to either Sam or Tucker's work. His grades were slipping dangerously low because his test scores were terrible, and his tests were terrible because, apparently, Danny's teachers couldn't figure out exactly what he was writing. Letters were backward, words were misspelled, and his once-pristine cursive was becoming steadily illegible.

Jack frowned. He knew Danny was a smart kid—between his wife's and his genes, there was no way he couldn't be—but it wasn't showing up in his schoolwork. But, and Jack always felt a bubble of pride in this, Danny _had_ demonstrated it to both him and Maddie on multiple counts with his designs for rockets, all the models he'd built, his ability to map the stars…

The scientist stood in front of his son's door, contemplating. What was the disconnect? Where had it come from?

Glancing at the clock in the hallway and seeing it was close to 11 o'clock, Jack carefully cracked open the door to check on his son before heading off to bed himself.

Danny wasn't there, though. The desk, lit by the glow of the lamp, was cluttered with what Jack recognized as homework, and the bright screen of the computer showed an empty word processing document.

Jack scratched the back of his head. Where had Danny gone off to in the middle of doing his homework? Especially so late at night?

The light of the lamp reflecting off of the notebook paper caused a slight glare, and Jack squinted at the desk. Curious, he walked over to see what his son was working on.

Narrow blue eyes studied the lined paper. It looked as though Danny had been trying to draft an essay, but Jack finally understood what Mr. Lancer had been telling them over the phone. The garbled words were just barely legible. Letters were turned around in some places, and some words were completely misspelled. Eraser marks marred the spaces where Danny had attempted to rewrite characters and whole words.

All Danny had managed were a few sentences, but they were enough for Jack to see that something was terribly wrong.

"Dad? What are you doing here?"

Startled, Jack turned to look at Danny, who had appeared behind him. The teen was standing near the foot of his bed, looking panicked and confused.

"Came to check on you before I went to bed," Jack answered. "You weren't here."

Danny grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I was, uh, in the bathroom," he mumbled, feet shuffling on the carpet.

Jack "hmm"-ed and turned back to the notebook. Picking it up, he studied the letters, noting the wobble in the lines, the uneven looping of certain parts of characters. He examined the way the cursive lowercase "f" was turned around, looking like an uppercase "J" instead. "P"s were replaced with "q"s, and a similar flipping was presented in regards to "b"s and "d"s. Some words were missing letters all together, and in two places whole words had been lost, convoluting the sentence.

Jack looked back up at his son, who had moved to sitting cross-legged on his bed, face plopped dejectedly in his hands.

"Hey, Danny…can we talk for a minute?"

The boy glanced at him for just a second before looking away and nodding silently.

Jack walked over to the bed, sitting down carefully so that he was facing his son. He placed the notebook between them on the bedspread, flipped so that Danny would see his own handwriting right-side-up.

"You wanna tell me what this is about?" he asked his son, tapping gently on the paper.

Danny shrugged, refusing to look at him. "I…I dunno, Dad. I don't really have an explanation," the teen claimed with a glum sigh.

He waited for Danny to say something else, and wasn't sure how to respond when it became clear that his son wasn't going to say anything further.

Luckily, if there was one thing Jack knew how to do, it was talk.

Facing away from Danny to stare out at the sky through the window, Jack took a deep breath and began to speak, letting the words come as they wanted. "You know, when I was your age, I was kinda like you. I was a magnet for the jocks and the bullies. Us Fenton men, we're habitually late bloomers. Didn't help that the teachers thought I was a troublemaker. Your grandparents didn't understand what my problem was, and I didn't know how to tell them that I couldn't help the problems I was having in school.

"I don't want my kids to feel like they can't talk to me about the important stuff. That's how I felt around my parents when I was growing up. Doesn't feel too great to think your own parents are against you," Jack explained, turning back to his son. "No matter what, kiddo, I'm always here to help if I can. I'd like to help now, but you've gotta give me something to work with."

Danny remained quiet, fingers idly twisting in the blue bedspread beneath them. Finally, he looked up, and Jack's heart broke at the blatant fear in his blue eyes.

"Dad, I think I'm going nuts," he confessed softly. "I don't know what's happening. I keep writing like this," he gestured to the notebook between them, "and I know it's wrong. I know how my letters are supposed to look, how words are supposed to be spelled, but when I try to write, it turns into a mess. Reading's harder too; I keep having to reread stuff, because I keep getting it wrong, and it's just taking longer and longer to get through homework. And…" Danny trailed off, biting his lip.

"And?" Jack prompted him.

"My muscles in my hands…they cramp, I guess, sometimes. Like when I'm writing, or holding a fork. And it's like there's some sort of tremor going through my body, or something, because every time I write it looks like a mess—all wobbly and stuff—and I feel like I've gotten clumsier." Danny held his hands up in front of his face, staring at them forlornly.

Jack wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but this wasn't it. Of course, he and Maddie had discussed the possibility that more severe complications may crop up for Danny after his accident with the portal. Their son had been electrocuted, which had resulted in a severe concussion because of how violently his body had been shaken. However, after not seeing anything that different in him after the accident, they had begun to believe that Danny was in the clear.

Then again, maybe they hadn't been paying close enough attention either, what with the portal becoming operational thanks to Danny, the influx of ghosts into Amity Park, and the emergence of Phantom.

However, now that he knew what Danny had been dealing with—what he shouldn't have had to deal with alone—Jack at least had an idea how to move forward.

Reaching out, he ruffled his son's hair and gave him a reassuring smile. "Okay. Here's what we're going to do. I'll call Dr. Malone tomorrow, and we're going to go see him and have him take a look at you. We'll figure out what to do based on what Dr. Malone says. For now, I want you to get some sleep and not worry about school for awhile." Jack picked up the notebook, waving it at Danny for emphasis. "Okay?"

A small, relieved smile crept across Danny's lips as he nodded, and Jack was happy to see some of the anxiety disappear.

Jack rose from the bed and made his way to the door. Behind him, he heard the shifting of bedclothes and slight squeaking of bedsprings as Danny settled in for the night.

He was just about to turn into the hallway when Danny called out to him. Turning back, he found his son curled on his side facing him, blue eyes glowing warmly in the light of his bedside lamp.

"Thank you. You know…for the talk," he murmured, before snuggling into his pillow and reaching to turn out the light.

Jack smiled, suddenly remembering a much younger Danny burrowing into his blankets and pillows after they had finished reading bedtime stories. His heart swelled with a warm feeling at the thought that he was finally in a position to help Danny with at least some of the problems he'd been having recently. "It'll all work out, Danny, promise. Good night."

"Good night. Love you, Dad," Danny said and turned the light off with a click.

"Love you too, son," Jack responded, closed the door behind him, and finally made his way to his own bed where Maddie was likely still awake, reading a book and waiting for him.

He and his wife had a lot to talk about.

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><p>xxx<p>

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><p>Danny stretched his back before settling himself in front of his computer. He double clicked an icon on his desktop and waited for the program to load, rolling his eyes at the electronic greeting he received when it opened. He needed to change that setting.<p>

Three months had passed since the night he and his dad had talked. As his father had promised, the next day Danny and his parents paid the family physician a visit. After spending some time describing what had been happening to him, and having his head X-rayed and scanned, the doctor finally gave them an answer.

Dr. Malone called it acquired dyslexia. The way Danny understood it, the electrocution from the portal combined with the severe concussion he suffered after that had resulted in some wires getting crossed and fried in the parts of his brain that helped him read and write. The physician didn't have an explanation as to why the symptoms showed up later, saying only that symptoms of brain injury could be delayed.

As for the spasms in his hands…

Well, hello, loss of fine motor function. Apparently, that's what it meant—wobbly writing, stabbing himself with pens when the muscles in his hand seized, feeling more shaky and clumsy than he remembered being.

So now, Danny had regular check-ups with Dr. Malone to monitor whether or not his fine motor skills were deteriorating or remaining stable. His first check-up since the initial diagnosis was a few weeks ago, but so far, it looked like he was holding steady.

The doctor's diagnosis had added a new layer of drama to his day-to-day life, as he was eligible to receive accommodations from the school and the district in order to be more academically successful.

Danny had gone with his parents to talk to the school about that. He'd felt awkward sitting there, listening to all the adults talk about him and his progress in school, and how things would change, but it was nice to be asked if he was comfortable or not with the decisions that were being made about him.

He'd been working with the special education teacher for awhile to learn to use a couple of computer programs that were helping him read and write, and to do exercises that were supposed to help him write the way he knew he was supposed to. He'd been given permission to either take notes on a computer or record his classes on audiocassette, or both if he thought it would help. Danny was still trying out the different methods in different classes to see what worked for him and what didn't. There were a few other provisions too.

Really, Danny was still just getting used to acknowledging that he had dyslexia. It helped to have a name for his problems with words and letters and writing, but he hated how it sometimes got him stuck in the spotlight, either because of something he didn't get, something a teacher would say and then realize was insensitive, or because Dash and his goon squad thought he was getting some sort of special treatment.

His continued run-ins with the A-List made Danny infinitely more grateful to have friends like Tucker and Sam. The two had been wonderfully normal, taking this new, weird, sometimes annoying piece of his life and treating it just the way they treated everything else about him. More than anything, Danny was happy that he could stop using his friends for their homework all the time. They were able to go back to the three of them just doing homework together the way they always had, with Danny using the tools he was getting from the special education teacher to assist him in the process.

Still…it was weird. His life had been sort of turned upside down because of the portal again, for one thing. Sometimes it was hard to deal with teachers and other adults in the school who gave him _those_ looks. The A-List was still the A-List, and Casper High really wasn't that big; he worried about them finding out about this and using it against him, because even though it really wasn't their business, he couldn't help but wonder with dread what they would say. Would they call him stupid? Would he suddenly become even more of a loser than he was?

And what about Sam and Tucker? They were so cool about it all with him, but the A-List could be cruel… Who knows how their minds might change about hanging out with him if this became another thing Dash and his cronies liked to dangle over their heads?

Danny sighed as he watched the status bar of the program complete its scanning function. Dealing with ghosts was easier than dealing with human beings. Ghosts didn't care if he could read or write or had weird fits in his hands that made him drop things. Ghosts cared only about beating him, because he was the only barrier between them and taking over this town. It was such a simple give and take in comparison...

The weirdest part about all of this was that he didn't experience any problems when he was in his ghost form. In fact, he was stronger and faster; his senses were heightened. It was slightly disorienting, to be honest. Part of his problem with learning how his powers worked was that he was always a little taken aback by the sudden onslaught of information he took in when he transformed.

Maybe that was the price he had to pay, though. Maybe, to balance out his ghost half, he had to lose something from his human half. There were worse things he could have lost—his mind could have been severely affected enough to drastically change his personality, he could have lost his ability to feel and process emotions properly.

He could have died and become a full ghost.

Maybe the price he was paying now—this sudden disability—wasn't such a terrible thing after all…

The distinctive sound indicating that the program was ready brought Danny out of his thoughts. Hitting a key on his keyboard, Danny sat back in his chair, blue eyes tracking the highlighted words of that night's history chapter on his screen as an electronic voice read the text aloud to him. He focused on the words scrolling down and pouring into his ears at the same time, writing little notes about the chapter on the notebook in front of him. As he worked, the world around him slipped away.

He was almost finished reading when a knock on his door caught his attention. Blinking back into awareness, Danny hit a key to pause the output of information and turned to see who had distracted him.

"Oh," he said, unable to help a small smile, "hey, Dad. What's up?"

His father was grinning as he stood in the doorway. "Dinner's ready. We ordered Chinese!"

"Sweet." Danny quickly wrote a short summary of what he'd read in his notebook so he wouldn't forget what he'd read when he returned after dinner. He then followed his father down the hall to the stairs.

"How's this new software working out for you, son?" his dad asked over an orange-clad shoulder.

"It's probably the best one so far. I like the voice better on this one, for sure, and the keyboard commands are way easier." Danny hopped over the bottom step to catch up with his father.

"Looking forward to your fortune cookie, Dad?" he asked as they made their way to the kitchen.

"You betcha, Dann-o! Maybe it'll be something about ghosts this time!"

Danny chuckled, and lapsed into silence, his thoughts returning to the last few months. His parents had been…well, amazing just didn't seem to cover it. His mom had been level-headed and calm, took these new developments in his life with stride, and read up on policies and regulations to learn about all the resources they could request from the school and the district. She had become his biggest champion.

Not that his dad hadn't helped, too. Actually, Danny wasn't sure how to explain it, but he felt closer to his dad because of all of this. Being around him and his constant good mood made Danny feel better on days when school and people just sucked. They didn't always talk about things, but his dad seemed to know when he needed a good distraction from the problems this disability had begun to cause in his life, and was always happy to have him around. Sometimes they'd end up working together in the lab with Danny doing homework and his dad working on a new project or invention. Sometimes they wouldn't work at all and they'd play video games together. He never knew his dad was so good at them before.

It was kind of cool, actually. He learned a lot of new things about his dad because all this. He'd found out a little about his dad's first crush back in middle school, and all the cheesy things he'd done to get noticed by the popular girls. He'd also learned that he and his dad weren't so different when dealing with bullies. Of course, Danny couldn't tell his dad that he held back in fights when Dash targeted him because of his ghost powers…but, well, _details_.

His dad could be intense when talking science, and a little crazy when it came to ghosts, but something about his generally easy-going manner always set Danny at ease.

"Danny?"

Blinking back into reality, Danny looked up at his father, who was heading for the dining table. Identical blue eyes to his own twinkled at him as his dad grinned. "Better hurry, son. Otherwise you'll miss out on the chow mein!"

Danny smiled and made his way to the table as well. "Just don't take all the orange chicken and we'll be cool."

Ten minutes later, Danny excused himself from the table to "use the restroom" after feeling a violent chill, ran to the upstairs bathroom, and flew transparently out the window to send whichever ghost had decided to interrupt his delicious dinner back to the Ghost Zone.

As he sped through the twilight sky, Danny grinned again.

His life wasn't perfect, but it wasn't terrible either.

In fact, it was getting better everyday.

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><p>xxx<p>

_Go on, go on, go on, go on_

_We move along  
><em>

xxx

**_fin_**


End file.
